l'liiSII#-f|4^slllMli 






HtHHY nE[3 OOMNJ. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

%p iupTO^l l?u 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



POEMS 



-RY- 



HENRY REED CONANT, 



••"Tis pleasure, sure, to see one's name in print; 
A book's a book, although there's nothing' iu't." 

—Byron. 



1893. 
Thb Sun Publishing Co 
Kaukaunu. Wis. 






/^ 



76 3i-^^ 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1893 

By Henry Reed Uonant, 

In tlie Offlfe of tlie Librarian of (Congress. 

at Washington. 



To My Brother. 

Carlos Everett Conant, A. Ji., 

Now Professor of Languages 

IN THE 

("haddock ("oi.i.ixu:, II;.., 

AND FOItMERLY 
i'JIOFESSOR IN THE STATE UNIVERSITY, 

OF Minnesota, 

This Book of Poems 

IS Affix "iioNATELV Inscimbed. 



CONTENTS, 



Teliilah Spring, .... Frontispiece 

Inscription, 5 

Introduction, 11 

Life, 17 

Dream of a Fairy 18 

Together, 20 

Be Not Discouraged, 21 

Forest Delights, 22 

Parting, 23 

Song, 24 

God's Love, 25 

Dreams, 26 

Lines on Life 28 

Where are the Hearts we Cher- 
ished So? 29 

Contentment, 31 

The Telulah Spring, 33 



CONTENTS. 



Daybreak, 36 

To a Brown Thrush, 37 

Hope, 38 

The Angel of Home, 39 

To My Sister, 40 

Woman, 40 

The Fox Kiver, 41 

A Little Grave, 42 

Autumn Days, 43 

In Heaven, 44 

Idleness, 46 

The River, 47 

The Crown of Fame, 49 

Elegy on the Death of Hon. C. B. 

Clark, 52 

A Reverie, 53 

Opportunity, 56 

Lines Wntten on Hearing a Gentle- 
man remark: "God Bless Dear 

Woman." 57 

My Lady Fair, 58 



CONTENTS. 



To a Firefly, 59 

My Old New England Home, . . 60 

A Lover's Lament, 62 

Faces That are Gone, 63 

The True Way, 65 

Pitcher or Jug, Q6 

Two Lives, 67 

Meditation, 68 

Tempus Fugit, 70 

Gladness, 71 

The Kainbow, 71 



MISCELLANEOUS VERSES. 

The Dawn o' Spring, . . 
Zeeke Bullard's Farm, . . 
Uncle Nick, on Eddication, 
Uncle Nick, on Gossipers, 
The Art o' Knowin' How, 
Mother's Photograph, . . 

Fifty Years, 

A Maiden Wondrous Fair, 



75 
76 

80 
82 
84 
86 
88 
89 



10 CONTENTS. 



Wealth and Want, 92 

Childhood, 93 

The Lassie O'er the Way, ... 94 



INTRODUCTION, 



Henry Reed Conant was born in Janesville, 
Wis., on the seventeenth day of February, 
1872. When four years of age he removed 
to Vermont, the native state of his parents 
Henry Clay and Dora Evaline (Reed) Co)iant. 
Henry was educated in the public schools 
and at the Morrisville "People's Academy," 
Vermont, and in his fifteenth year returned 
to the west. 

He inherited •from his New England an- 
cestors a deep love of nature, and pronoui.crd 
religious and moral strength, which tinge 
the whole body of his rhymes and poems. 
Like many poets in their juvenile days Mr. 
Conant's first lines were simple and artless, 
and the world of critics can hardly assail him 



12 INTRODUCTION^. 

for penning his first rliymes in honor of his 
"first love," thus: 

"Of all the lassies in the land 
That e'er I chanced to view, 

Methinks the fairest one I saw 
Had sparkling eyes of hlue." 

His first publislied poem appeared in a lit- 
tle story paper, February, 1890, at Belvidere, 
Ills. Nearly all of Mr. Conant's poems were 
written in Wisconsin, his native state. The 
selected poems forming this volume reflect 
the young poet's individuality to a sensible 
degree. The trend of his thoughts and genius 
is toward the more solemn and religious as- 
pects of nature, and of human experience. 
He dwells in the forest's shade, on the banks 
of rivers flowing through lea and wood- 
land, by the grave of a little child, and wan- 
ders back to his old New England home — 
to the scenes of his childhood. 

Henry Eeed Conant, like many other begin- 
ners in the literary arena, commits his poems to 
a critical public with the full consciousness of 
their poetical deficiencies. Criticism he must 



TXTKODUCTION. i:} 



await, and gladly accept as the basis of that 
future development through which every 
poet must pass ere he attain that popular 
following thai is the reward not only of gen- 
ius, but of bitter disappointments. 

A. K. v.. 
Appleton, Wis., Nov. 22, 1893. 



We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, 

not breaths; 
In feelings, not in figures on a dial. 
We should count time by heart-throbs. 

He most lives 

Who thinks most, feels the noblest, acts 

the best. 

— Bailey. 



POEMS. 



LIFE. 



Life is a race in which all compete, 
Hastening onward with restless feet, 
Eagerly striving for some great prize 
That out in the hidden future lies: 
The sturdy youth with visions bright, 
The stalwart form of manhood's might, 
And tottering age, are borne along 
In the mighty rush of the endless throng. 
Like the waves of the sea that forever roll 
'Tis a livelong race to an unseen goal; 



18 POEMS. 

But the prize is gained at the end of the 

strife, 
For it lies just beyond this eartly life, 
Where fears, tribulations and trials cease, 
In the golden realms of eternal peace. 



DREAM OF A FAIRY. 



When all the air was filled with song 
At morning's early beam. 

In musing mood I strolled along 
Beside a placid stream. 

And as I roved the meadow sweet. 

What bade my heart rejoice? 
Was it the daisies at my feet? 

Nay, nor the songster's voice. 



POEMS. 19 

For glancing toward the crystal stroani 

I spied a little child. 
Uj)on whose brow the morning Itcjuii. 

With all its beauty smiled: 

Ami on her cheek, so wondrous fair, 

I saw the ruddy glow, — 
Beheld her locks of flaxen hair 

Wave gently to and fro. 

Then with delight I nearer diew, 
But lo! here ends my theme; 

T waked — the faiiy fled my view 
"Twas but a hai)i)y dream. 



20 POEMS. 



TOGETHER. 



'Neath an aged elm sat a loving pair, 

A long, long time ago — 
A youthful man and a maiden fair. 

With faces all aglow: 
The birds'sweet notes in the boughs above 
And the balm of the sweet June weather 
Seemed to say, " 'Tis the time for love," 

As they chatted and laughed together. 

The years flew by — an aged pair. 

Sat by an old hearth-stone, 
With furrowed brows and hoaiy hair. 

Talking in feeble tone 
Of the happy days they used to know. 

When, in the gladsome weather, 
Tiiey wandered merrily to and fro, 

Talking of Icve together. 



POEMS. 21 

And now the grass grows green on n pair 

Of graves, made side by side; 
Two hearts are lying in silence there, 

That once beat with joy and pride. 
They shared life's triumphs, life's defeats. 

Thro" fair and stormy weather, 
And now they walk the golden streets 

Of Paradise — together. 



BE NOT DISCOURAGED. 

When the clouds hang darkly o'er thee. 

Be thou not discouraged: 
When the world looks drear before thee. 

Be thou not discouraged: 
Let thy heart be light and gay; 
Soon the clouds will pass away: 
'Tis darkest just before the day; 

Be thou not discouraged. 



22 POEMS. 

FOREST DELIGHTS. 

I love to stroll amid the silent wood 
Where naught is found to break the 

quietude, 
Except the woodland tenants, or the 

breeze 
Among the tender ferns and tow'ring 

trees. 

Here sports the timid hare in wanton glee, 

While may be heard from yonder chest- 
nut tree 

The squirrel chirping to its mate near 
by, 

AVhicli gaily answers with a prompt 
reply. 

Here many a brooklet ripples on its way. 
Here countless birds employ their sweet- 
est lay, 



POEMS. 23 

And luMf ami there the startled otter 

springs, 
While oft ft partridge hies on whiirinp; 

wings. 

What are the palaces of kings nntl 

lords 
Compared with all that nature here 

affords? 
These forest charms are dearer to my 

heart 
Than all the pomp of royalty and art. 



PARTING. 



The deepest sorrow fills the heart 
To see our loved ones perish; 

But soon or late we all must part 
With those we fondly cherish. 



24 POEMS. 

The tie must break with friend and friend : 

The true and noble-hearted 
Must one day reach their journey's end, 

To join the dear departed. 

Why mourn we, then, for those who cross 

The intervening river? 
Although to us a heavy loss. 

To them is joy forever. 



SONG. 

Not always the prettiest tiowers 

Fill the air with the sweetest perfume ; 

And not always the sweetest singer 
Is the bird with the fairest plume. 

But the sweetness surpassing all other, 
And the richest and tenderest strain. 



POEMS. 25 

Kise out of the bosom that knowetli 
The feelings of love and pain. 



GOD'S LOVE. 



I know Avhere'er my feet may be, 

Tho' prone to stray, 
His watchful eye is over me 

Both night and day. 

And tho' ofttimes this heart has erred 

'Mid worldly cares, 
I know His pard'ning ear has heard 

My humble prayers. 

At all times, e'en when I have failed 

To do His will. 
His love has in my heart prevailed — 

And guides me still. 



26 POEMS. 



DREAMS. 



What cloudless scenes of wonder and 

delight 
Come to us in the silent realms of 

night; 
Loved ones we meet, that long have 

been at rest, 
We grasp their hands and clasp them 

to our breast, 
Talk with them of the happy days 

gone by. 
With not a pang of sorrow nor a 

sigh : 
And everything around looks won- 
drous fair, 
Sweet flowers of richest hue bloom 

here and there; 
On either hand we see unnumbered 

throngs 



I'OEMS. 27 

( )t" whito-robed niifjels. WMt'tinp; joyful 

And seoin<ij thus. (MmtiniKYl ^Idiics 
rise. 

Our souls are rapt iii cndliss l^ara- 
dise. 

Bat mingled voices tom-h tlie sleep- 
ers ear. 

And lo! how swift the bright scenes 
disappear! 

The morning light beams through the 
window pane — 

The dream has fled and day returned 
again. 



-^?4r. 



28 POEMS. 

LINES ON LIFE. 

With all the cares and toils that here 
abound, 

And e'en deep seas of grief which men 
must ford — 

To him whose guardian is tli' Om- 
nipotent, 

Life is a source of everlasting joy! 

This world at most is but an ante- 
room, 

Where souls prepare to take their joy- 
ous flight 

To Heaven's eternal mansions. Thus 
the while 

We here remain, is it not meet that 
we 

Should wear the garb of truth and 
righteousness? 



POEMS. 29 

WHERE ARE THE HEARTS WE CHER- 
ISHED SO? 

Where are the hearts we cherished so, 

Who've left this earthly main, 
And gone from kindred circles dear. 

Ne'er to rotnrn again V 
Where gone those aged silvery locks V 

That sturdy youthful browV 
Alas! no sound comes from the grave, 

Where they're reposing noAv! 

When troubles here our paths beset, 

When cares and woes assail, 
We often think of those at rest 

Within that happy Vale;. 
And tho' we cannot wish them back 

In this sad world of pain — 
O! how we long to catch a glimpse 

Of their dear forms again! 



30 POEMS. 

But just beyond the stream which glides 

Between that Land and ours — 
Where fairer fields are all adorned 

With never-fading flow'rs, 
And brighter suns forever shine 

Throughout the golden spheres, 
We'll dwell with those whoVe left us here. 

Through never-ending years. 



,o,„^^ 



■^( 



POEMS. 31 



CONTENTMENT. 



Tlio isle of contentment we view from 
afar, 

And it dazzles our eyes like a beauti- 
ful star; 

A region which thousands gaze wistful- 
ly at, 

And would dwell there, if 'twasn't for 
this or for that. 

The lord in his palace, the cotter ob- 
scure. 

The high and the lowly, the rich and 
the poor, 

Are all discontented whate'er be the 
case, 

Because they are not in some other 
man's place. 



32 POEMS. 

In youth, how we long for mature years 

of men; 
In age, how we sigh for our childhood 

again ; 
Wherever our station, whate'er be our 

lot, 
We miss countless blessings for joys we 

have not. 

Thus, ever thro" life, from our earliest 

prime, 
We look and we long for some happier 

clime. 
Until the bright portals of Paradise 

ope, 
And we soar away homo on the pinions 

of hope. 



POEMS. 33 



THE TELULAH SPRING. 

A living' spring; of cool, clear water, on the banks of 
the Fox River, Apploton, Wis.: said to have been first 
discovered by, and named after, a beautiful Indian 
girl by the name of "Telulah" who, many years ago, 
lived near the spot. 



I've heard it told, that many years ago, 
When here deep groves stood in their 

majesty. 
Ere they had felt the white man's fatal 

stroke, 
And peace and happiness breathed over 

all,— 
That near this spring an Indian maiden 

dwelt. 
Most beautiful was she, so runs the tale, 
With tresses like the darkest raven's 

coat, 
And eyes to match their hue. Her lips, 

'tis said. 



34 POEMS. 

Surpassed the reddest berries on the hill; 
And the bright glow which rested on her 

cheek 
Was like the morning beam, or like the 

rays 
Of eve, that ling' ring, paint the western 

sky. 
Such was the one, 'tis said, who first 

beheld 
This living stream of water, cool and 

clear, 
Uprising from the bosom of the earth.' 
Here many a traveler on his weary way 
'Mid summer's heat, I'etires to cool his 

brow. 
And freely drink the ever crystal tide. 
And men oppressed with city care and 

strife. 
Stroll hither when the toils of day are 

o'er; 



POEMS. 35 

Or wlion the weary week draws to a 

close, 
Upon that day when all men cease their 

toils, 
Approach this calm retreat to meditate 
On nature's wonders and the Mighty 

One 
By Whom all things were formed and 

still exist. 
And happy lovers strolling hand in hand 
Amid these pleasant bowers, pause to 

behold 
This sparkling fount forever gushing 

forth, 
And linger 'round this scene of beauty, 

which 
Still bears the name of that sweet In- 
dian girl. 



36 POEMS. 



DAYBREAK. 



We behold the bright joys of another 
day's dawn, 
As time swiftly flies "like a bird on 
the wing;" 
Let's improve every moment, now, ere 
it has gone, 
For no one can tell what the next one 
may bring. 

Our hopes of the future we never may 
see; 
Our days that are past we can never 
redeem ; 
But to-day every heart, love and joy 
may impart, 
Which surpasses the sun's most ra- 
diant beam. 



POEMS. 37 

TO A BROWN THRUSH, 

On tiiuiitii^ its nest ami youni,'. 

O little thrush, what gives thee such 
alarm ? 
Pray fear thee not, nor think that I 

am come 
To injure or disturb thy happy home; 
Thy little ones so sweet I ne'er would 

harm. 
Thy love, Hke all true parents' love, is 
strong — 
At all times anxious for thy young 

so dear; 
But put away now ev'ry needless fear, 
And once again resume thy happy song. 
Sv.eet bird, I wish thee never-ceasing 
cheer! 
Who, with devoted love and tender 
care, 



38 POEMS. 

Look'st on thy nestlings now so young 
and fair. 
May never cruel enemy come near, 
Led by blood-thirsty instincts, to de- 
stroy 
Thy little home — now filled with peace 
and joy. 



HOPE. 



Ne'er lose thy courage, tho' dark seems 
the strife; 
The blackest night dies with the gold- 
en dawn: 
Let not thy hope cease while there still 
is life, 
For Hope is what the world is living 
on! 



POEMS. 39 



THE ANQEL OF HOME. 



Wluit visions of happiness often steal 

o'er me, 

As back to my childhood iu fancy I 

roam; 
And the picture that mem'ry paints 

brightest before me, 

Is mother, dear mother, — the angel 

of home. 



No love's like a mother's, so true and so 
tender, 
No love's so enduring 'neath heaven's 
broad dome ; 
And not all earth's wealth with its pomp 
and its splendor, 
Could steal my affection from mother 
and home. 



40 POEMS. 



TO MY SISTER. 



May still thy deeds of innocence, 
Like stars of heaven, shine; 

And thou retain thy purity, 
Till Heaven itself is thine! 



WOMAN. 



The fairest flower that all our path 
adorns, 

The loveliest rose amidst the cruel 
thorns, * 

The brightest star that shines in man's 
abode, 

The sweetest gift that Heaven e'er be- 
stowed! 



POEMS. 41 



THE FOX RIVER. 



O beautiful river, 

How gently among 
The fields and the forests 

Thou glidest along! 

'Mid thy pleasant valleys 
And cool shady bow'rs, 

Grow tall fragrant grasses 
And bright blooming flow'rs. 

By day o'er thy waters 
The sun beameth bright, 

And stars everiwinkle 
Above thee by night. 

And never complaining 
Thou flowest along 



42 POEMS. 

'Mid nature's wide province 
With laughter and song: 

Content with thy mission 
In nature's great plan; 

And such is thy lesson 
Thou teachest to man. 



A LITTLE GRAVE. 



Sweetly sing, ye little songsters; 

Smile, ye happy skies; 
Softly blow, ye wanton breezes — 

Here an infant lies! 

Brightly bloom, ye tinted flowers. 
Wafting sweet perfume; 

Gently fall, ye summer showers, 
On this little tomb. 



rOExMS. 43 



AUTUMN DAYS. 



The summer joys are fleeting fast 
From forest, field and glen, 

And soon shall winter's piercing blast 
Sweep o'er the earth again. 

How lovely were the bright spring flow'rs, 
That decked the landscape o'er; 

But now we see, on fields and bow'rs, 
Their dainty forms no more. 

The leaves are falling in the wind, 
From many a lofty height, 

And birds are calHng to their kind. 
Upon their farewell flight. 

But still, how cheering is the thought, 
When other joys have flown ; 



44 POEMS. 

That the little snow-bird leaves us not, 
But chirps till winter's gone. 



IN HEAVEN. 



One pleasant day in June a little 
thrush 
Lit on a bough close by my window 
pane, 
And as the screams from living foun- 
tains gush, 
Poured forth its sweetest strain. 

My heart then felt released from every 
care. 
And seemed to rise toward Heaven's 
enchanted zone, 
When soon the music ceased, and look- 
ing there, 
I saw the bird had flown. 



POEMS. 46 

And then the thought camo to me of 
the one 
Who left me when so youthful and 
so fair, 
Who in the light of Heaven's unset- 
ting sun 
Lives with the angels there. 

I little thought, ere those sweet smiles 
were gone. 
That she so soon must heed the 
angel's call; 
But all the way He led her safely 
on 
Who marks the sparrow's fall. 

And some day, when life's billows cease 
to roar. 
And here no more my weary feet 
shall roam. 



46 POEMS. 

Our souls shall be conjoined forever- 
more 
In Heaven's eternal liorae. 



IDLENESS. 



Make some good use of ev'ry space of 

time, 
In idleness are sown the seeds of crime; 
Man's erring mind, allured by passions 

strong. 
Begins pursuing here the path of wrong; 
And heedless of the peril just ahead, 
Step after step proceeds with fearless 

tread, 
Till ruin comes with ovei-whelming 

power — 
The bitter fate of many an idle hour! 



POEMS. 47 



THE RIVER. 



Out from the shady woodland, 
With song and laughter free; 

Down from the sunny hillside, 
And over the flow'ry lea, 

Floweth the restless river. 
On its journey to the sea. 

Over the silvery pebbles, 

Sparkling like morning dew, 

Whether in light or darkness. 
Doth ever its course pursue. 

Till it gains the mighty ocean 
With waters vast and blue. 

And thus are we traveling onward, — 
'Tis Hope by which we're borne, 
And our hearts beat with triumphant 
gladness, 



48 POEMS. 

As we dream of some brighter dawn 
With sights that are nobler and grander, 
And we journey on and on. 

And up from the earth's dark bosom, 
Like the homeward flight of a dove, 

On Hope's majestic pinions 

We soar to the realms above, 

To lave forever and ever. 

In the sea of Eternal Love. 



9"^ 



POEMS. 49 

THE CROWN OF FAME. 

^V^lat toils and hardships oft confront 
man's sight, 

When first ascending fame's immortal 
height: 

What cares, vexations, worriments pre- 
vail, 

What deep-laid plans, repeated efforts, 
fail: 

Yet who would dwell in hermit den, ob- 
scure, 

To shun the toils that hero-gods endure ! 
Bestir thyself, O man, for soon — too 
soon, 

As youth recedes, shall fade life's gold- 
en noon! 

If thou wouldst make thyself undying 
name, 

Direct thy efforts to one worthy aim; 



50 POEMS. 

Let each exertion theu be wrought with 
zeal, 

Nor faint if woe come where thou look'st 
for weal; 

But toil thou on, nor fear the world's 
dark frown, 

Till firm upon the summit of renown. 
Whatever good, perchance, thy toils, 
may greet. 

Lose not thyself in folly's vain conceit: 

False pride to lowest degradation tends — 

It leads to vice and vice to crime de- 
scends ; 

As tiny rills, that from the mountain 
flow. 

Pursue their course to larger streams 
below, 

Till seas are joined where mighty bil- 
lows roll, 

So pride goes onward till it wrecks the 
soul; 



I'OEMS. 51 

Thus by degrees the dowmvnnl course 
begins, 

And greatest evils rise from little sins. 
Nor seek thy fame 'mid pompous 
scenes of art, 

Where vice and folly oft inure the 
heart: 

'Tis Right eternal kindles honor's flame, 

And crowns Man's efforts with immor- 
tal Fame. 



?^. 



52 POEMS. 



ELEGY, 

On the death of Hon. C. B. Clark, member of Con- 
grcffs from 1887 to 1891, for Wisconsin district No. 6, 
(now No. 8.) Died Sept. 10th, 1891. 



Well may the throngs in countless num- 
bers weep, 
Bereft of such a great and noble man, 
For brilliant was the course of life he 
ran, 
But now he lies in everlasting sleep. 
f 

He lived a life exempt from selfish 
pride ; 
He never turned a stranger from his 

door; 
He ne'er refused to aid the needful 
poor; 
He proved to youth a never-failing guide. 



POEMS. 53 

Alas! we mourn, with aching in our 
breast 
And eyelids moistened with the burn- 
ing tear, 
The loss of one. so generous and sin- 
cere, 
Now silent in his sweot and poaceful rest. 



A REVERIE. 



O glad shall I be when the winter is 
ended. 
When the wild sweeping blasts of the 
season are gone, 
When the last flakes of snow to the 
ground have descended, 
And the drifts have all vanished from 
meadow and lawn. 



54 POEMS. 

O glad shall I be when these cold days 
are over. 
And the bright joys of summer are 
with us again; 
When the meadows are blooming with 
sweet-scented clover, 
And the warm sun is smiling on new 
fields of grain. 

O glad shall I be, when as free as the 
air 
The birds are all singing their merri- 
est lay, 
To remind me of days when I knew 
naught of care, 
And the seasons all seemed like a 
long summer day. 

O spring! meny spring! with thy fra- 
grance of flowers, 



POEMS. 65 

To thee from my sorrows I lonp;ingly 
tum;^ 
I'll forget the drear scenes of these long 
winter hours, 

And dream of thy blessings and hap- 
py return. 






56 POEMS. 



OPPORTUNITY. 



Time is ever swiftly fleeting. 

Unimproved by scores of men; 
Opportunities are passing 

That we'll never have again; 
Many things we may accomplish, 

As the hours go speeding on, 
If we but improve each moment, 

Ere the precious time is gone. 

There are many hearts about us. 

That a loving word might cheer; 
There are many dear ones with us, 

That ere long may not be here: 
Let us then be wise and thoughtful, 

As our course we journey on, 
Striving for the good of others 

Ere the precious time is gone. 



POEMS. 57 



LINES 

Written on hearing :i i-'ciitloman remiirk: 'Goil bless 
dear woman." 



"God bless dear woman!" did I hear you 
say? 

Full many a man might wisely thus re- 
mark! 

How oft her smiles have cheered man's 
troubled way, 

And comfort brought when fortune's 
sky was dark — 

The vine that clings unto the oak, whose 
bark 

Is coarse and rough and void of pleasing 

grace ; 
And like a dove within the cheerless 

Ark, 

Mid life's drear scenes we see her sweet- 
ly face. 

And in God's best design, there love 
and beauty trace! 



58 POEMS. 



MY LADY FAIR. 



When aged winter, fierce and grim, 

Had ceased Jiis surly reign, 
And virgin spring again adorned 

The forest, field and plain; 
One morning when the sun was bright 

And music filled the air, 
I wandered o'er the meadow sweet 

Beside my lady fair! 

We strolled along 'mid blooming flow'rs. 

Till 'neath a spreading tree. 
Wo sat where swift the raptured hours 

Flew o'er my love and me; 
And when at last time bade us part, 

I kissed'those lips so sweet, 
And little dreamed but we should still 

Oft thus together meet. 



POEMS. 59 

But as the stars of heav'n tlejiart, 

When dawn her {^lory brinj^s, 
One raorn the angels bore her oti' 

Upon their snowy wings! 
Yet, in the golden realms above, 

I trust some day to see, 
^Vith endless joy, the one who made 

This earth a Heaven to me! 



TO A FIRi-FLY. 



Blithesome insect, gently flying 
Thro' the shades of night, 

As we see thy rays of brightness, 
May our hopes be bright: 

And tho' with lif<^';-; care.s onconipass'd, 
]\l!iv tnir luiarts be liuht. 



60 POEMS. 



MY OLD NEW El^ GLAND HOME. 



When the stars above, in gladness, 
Twinkle thro' the evening gloam, 

With a mingled joy and sadness, 
Often do my fancies roam 

Backward to the vanished pleasures 
Of my old New England home. 

In that home I see my mother — • 
Of all earthly friends the best — 

At her side my younger brother. 

With his youthful pleasures blest; 

And my little brown-eyed sister. 

Sleeping on her mother's breast. 

And within that sacred dwelling 
Father's cheerful face I see, 

And I hear him kindly telling 
Us to ever loyal be; — 



POEMS. 61 

Oil tlio buttlo-fiolci ho periKhed, 

WIkmi tlioy in.'uio our country free. 

When he went nway, our mother 
Safely led our little band, 

And she tauglit vis of another 

Loving Father, whose strong hand, 

Never would forsake his children, 
If they heeded His command: 

Taught us, in our youtli and beauty, 
Ne'er to tuni our feet aside 

From the paths of truth ;ind duty. 
Whatsoever might betide; 

liiit to keep the path of wisdom. 
And obey our Heavenly guide. 

IJack to home and all its pleasures 
( )ften do my fancies roam, 

And to me, th(^ richest treasures 
Under heaven's starry dome, 



62 POEMS. 

Were the blessings of my childhood, 
In that old New England home. 



/\ LOVER'S LAMENT. 



As lillies, arrayed in their loveliness, 
fade, 
So faded my fairest — my love: 
My joys have all fled, for my darling 
is dead — 
O Stella! My dearest, my dove! 

The loveliest flowers, in this sad world 
of ours. 
Are soonest from us to depart — 
Are first to decay; and thus faded 
away 
The tenderest joy of my heart. 



POEMS. 63 

My hopes, once so bright, liavo all tnkon 
their flight, 
For gone is my beautiful dove: 
I'm weary with grief, and shall ne'er 
find relief, 
Till I rest with my darling above. 



FACES THAT ARt GONE. 



How we long to see the faces 

That have crossed the silent tide- 
Faces marked with care and sorrow, 

Faces full of joy and pride; 
Some with furrowed brow and hoary. 

Some in youth's lamented bloom; — 
One by one from us departed. 

For the cold and silent tomb. 



64 POEMS. 

Birds employ their notes of gladness 

As they flutter to and fro, 
Flow'rs display their wealth of beauty, 

As they used to long ago; 
But the birds may sing forever, 

And the floAv'rs forever bloom; 
They can ne'er bring back the faces 

That are hidden in the tomb! 

Silently death steals upon us, 

Silently time speedeth on — 
Soon we, too, shall all be numbered. 

With the faces that are gone; 
Each and all must shortly follow 

Thro' the shadows and the gloom, 
To the loved ones who are waiting 

In the light beyond the tomb. 



POEMS. 65 



THE TRUE WAY. 



We kncnv that we're stubborn ami willful, 
And tlio' we have kindly been shown 

The true way, which God has appointed, 
We often go on in our own. 

And thus we go on in the darkness, 
Groping our Avay thro' the night; 

Unmindful ofttiines of His goodness. 
And missing His glorious light. 

But still He looks down with compassion, 
And e'en thro' life's greatest alarms 

We're sheltered and safely protected, 
As weak little lambs in His arms. 

Could we but have more of His goodness 
Implanted each day in our heart, 



66 POEMS. 

Perhaps there are others about us 
Who'd feel the rich joy we'd impart. 

Could our love, every day, be to othei-s 
As the love from our Maker above, 

Q what a grand army of brothers 
Would be banded together in love ! 



PITCHER OR JUG. 



Which brings poverty and woe. 
Which makes useless tears to flow, 
Which brings scorn where'er we go, 
Pitcher or jug? 

Which fades beauty, health and bloom. 
Which turns happiness to gloom. 
Which leads to the drunkard's tomb, 
Pitcher or jug? 



POE.MS. Cm 



mo LIMES. 



They stalled out togetlier 

Amid the worldly din; 
Out' yielded to temptation. 

And lived a life of sin: 
They found his lifeless body 

One pleasant summer dawn, 
All mangled in the gutter- 

A wretched life was gone. 

The other trod the pathway 
^)f righteousness and truth. 

And kept his soul as spotless 
As in iiis early youth: 

And when his voyage was ended. 

On Heaven's lilissful shore 
1T«^ joined the great reunion. 

Where parting i.s no more. 



68 POEMS. 



MEDITATION. 



'Mid scenes of mystery life's tide rolls 
onward ; 

And tho' some, delving deep in caves 
of knowledge, 

Have revealed Avondrous facts, this life, 
concerning. 

Still blind they are to most of life's 
great features ; 

How powerless to perceive the future's 
movements, 

Or e'en explain the present things about 
them ! 

We little more than know that we're 
existing, 

'Mid scenes that time and tide are chang- 
ing ever. 

Hope is a star that lures men ever on- 
ward, 



P()?:M8. »59 

Oft seeming near and yet forever dis- 
tant; 

Contentment is an isle where man. if 
ever. 

lias seldom dwelt amid the scenes en- 
chanting; 

Loue is a dew-drop on the ro.se-l>ush 
glowing, 

Soon to depart as e'en tlie bush must 
perish : 

All things of earth are like the tleeting 
shadows 

Except the love of Him whose i)ower 
and wisdojn 

Exceeds, by far. mctn's deepest under- 
standing. 

And. He, who clotiies the lillies in their 
beauty. 

Who feeds his llocks and marks the fall- 
ing sparrow, 



70 POEMS. 

Will shield His children from life's rag- 
ing tempests, 

And lead them safe through waters of 
affliction 

Until, at last, beyond the vales and 
shadows. 

Their eyes behold that Land of endless 
beauty. 



TEMPUS FUG IT. 



Men sleep, but time speeds on; 
The sun comes out at dawn 

O'er hill and town, 

At eve goes down. 
But ever time speeds on. 



POEMS. 71 

Men die -the world moves on. 
And when our forms are gojie. 

New hearts arise, 

To seek earth's prize; 
And thus the world moves on. 



GLADNESS. 

Let thy heart, attuned to gladness, 
Eveiy fear and doubt dispel — 

Banish idle thoughts of sadness, 
Then shall joy thy bosom swell. 



THE RAINBOW. 



Howe'er dark the clouds may hover 
O'er thy pathway, ne'er repine: 

Mark thou, when the storm is over. 
In the heaven that beautious line! 



Miscellaneous Verses. 



'Nil' jSo<-„ _ W 



NOTE. 

My first intention was to omit the 
following pieces from this publication, 
but on recommendation of several 
readers I have finally decided to place 
them in a seperate department; expecting 
in either case — whether included in this 
book or omitted — that the youthful 
aspirant, in this attempt to flutter out 
into the literary sphere, will fall head- 
long and be left only to dream of those 
glorious heights where others triumph- 
antly soar amid the silvery clouds of 

fancy. 

H. E. C. 



THE DAV\>N 0' SPRING. 



Yes, boys, I'm waitin' patiently to see 

the dawn o' spring 
To see the flowers in blossom nn' to hear 

the robins sing; 
An' to see the trees an' meadows clad in 

garbs o' livin' green; 
An' to hear the merry music o' the brook 

thet flows between. 

It makes me fairly home-sick sech cold 

wintry days ez these, 
The snow a driftin' everywhere an' Iny- 

in' in the trees; 
An' when Jack Frost stenls 'round et 

night an' frescoes everythinur. 
It makes me hanker more an' more to 

see the dawn o' spring. 



76 POEMS. 

Fer I know wlien spring comes 'round 
ag'in with all her sweet perfume; 

Her reses all in blossom an' her orch- 
ards all a-bloom, 

An' robins singin' gaily — I'll be happy 
ez a king; 

Thet's why I'm waitin' patiently to see 
the dawn o' spring. 



ZEEKE BULLARD'S FARM. 



Zeeke BuUard wuz a farmer of no great 

amount of worth, 
Tho' his farm wviz well supphed with 

miles of rich, productive earth; 
Fer he owned three hundred acres, so 

his frien's an' neighbors sed. 
But he uster say thet money wuz a thing 

he never hed. 



POEMS. 77 

He'd gronii about his losses, nn' liis 

scarcity of tin. 
An' he of 'en sed lie wondei-od w'y his 

crops were all so thin; 
He'd set aroiin' frum morn till nij^ht till 

days an' weeks 'ud pass. 
An' talk about the way he'd lose his 

grain an" garden sass. 

The 'tater bugs in multitudes 'ud come 

frum all aroun'. 
Till notliin' in his Murphy patch wuz 

left abuv the groun' ; 
Insects of all descriptions thronged 

aroun' his garden beds, 
While worms with powerful appetites 

devoured his cabbage heads. 

The crows "ud come day after da}' to 

steal his yaller corn. 
An* dine on oats an' barley till his fiel's 

were nearly shorn, 



78 POEMS. 

An' acre after acre where his clover 

oughter grow, 
There wa'n't but giant thistles pintin' 

daggers high an' low. 

An' when his crops were harvested by 

bugs an' worms an' crows, 
An' wintry blasts were comin' on, his 

sons were void of clo'es; 
In spite of all the mendin' tliet his little 

wife could do, 
The toes an' knees an' elbows of his 

boys were peekin' thro'. 



A while ago I left thet place of farmin' 

enterprise, 
An' now my folks are livin' 'neath the 

broad, blue western skies, 
An' tho' I ain't a farmer I'm convinced 

there's nothin' made. 
Unless you work et farmin', same ez any 

other trade. 



POEMS. 79 

Weeds don't need cultervatin', but they 

grow up tall an' stout, 
An' you mus' work to save the grain an 

keep the thistles out: 
You can't loaf 'round frum mom till 

night an' talk the hull day thro', 
For yer crops'll go to ruin jest ez surely 

ez you do. 



I've jest received a letter frum an ol'-time 

friend of mine, 
Who sed poor Zeeke wuz dwellin' where 

bright crowns of glory shine; 
He'd quit the farmin' business an' wuz 

free fnim worl'ly harm. 
While his seven sons were lef to raise 

the mortgage on his farm. 



80 POEMS. 



UNCLE NICK, ON EDDICATION. 



While 'tendin' skool I uster be fust 
class et playin' ball, 

Et playin' tag er leap-frog I wuz formost 
of 'em all; 

Secli sportin' alius lied fer me a wond- 
rous fascination, 

An' so I spent more time et this than on 
my eddication. 

I of'en git to thinkin' what fine chances 

I hed then 
To git an' eddication. but of course it's 

useless when 
The opportunity is passed to mourn yer 

situation — 
It's pooty hard when you are ol' to git 

an eddication. 



I'OEMS. 81 

Nt)w boys I'm 'fniid tliet some o' yt>u 

are growin' up this way, 
I'm 'fraid fer learnin' some o' you are 

substertootin' play, 
I'm 'fraid there's boys a-livin' in this 

present gineration, 
Who'll wish some day they'd seen less 

play an' more o' eddication. 

You can't keep At^itin', thinkin' thet 

you've got a lot o' time, — 
The time to git yer schoolin', boys, is 

while you're in yer prime; 
When you are ol' you'll see enough o' 

care an' tribulation, 
Without the thought thet carelessly you 

missed an eddication. 



82 POEMS. 



UNCLE NICK, ON GOSS/PERS. 



When people git to gossipin' sometimes 

they'll set an' talk 
Fer hours an' hours together, jest ez 

reg'ler ez a clock ; 
I s'pose they think folks love to hear 

their never-endin' yop, — 
But when Samantlia's talked a while 

she knows enough to stop. 

When Mi's. Jones wuz tellin' et our place 

the other day, 
Thet Mrs. Williams told her thet her 

neighbor, Mrs. G-ray, 
Sed she never saw so big a story-teller's 

Widder Heath— 
Samantha set there quiet, with her 

tongue between her teeth. 



I'OKMJS. 83 

She ain't ferever slingin' out becli evor- 

lastin' gab:-- 
She ofen sez "it's bad enough to hoar 

the neigh boi-s blab;'" 
But she jest stays et home instid an' 

'tends to fam'ly cares. 
An' never tells the neighborhood about 

her home affairs. 

We don't take any papei's. but with 

news we're well supplied; 
Fer the neighbors tell us every birth an' 

death an' suicide: 
When Mrs. Jones comes up our walk 

a-squeakin' them new shoes. 
Sometimes Sainantha'll say to me. '"here 

comes the daily news." 



84 POEMS. 



THE ART 0' KNOWIN' HOW. 



It's hard to write a decent song, tlio' 

maybe you deny it. 
Most any job looks easy you'll allow; 
But if you're inexperienced perhaps 

you'd better try it, 
An' you'll find the nickromancy's in the 

art o' knowin' how. 



There's lots o' things you've never done 
that looks all killin' easy — 

Did you ever try to rnilk a kickin' cow? 

If not, just try yer hand fer fun, to satis- 
fy and please ye. 

An' you'll find the nickromancy's in the 
art o' knowin' how. 



POKMS. 85 

Whatever yer profession, you'll discover 

soon or late, 
As you stop to wipe the sweat from off 

yer broAv, 
Tliat to preach a decent sermon or to 

draw a furrow straight, 
The nickromancy lies within tiie art o' 

knowin" how. 



So be sure thet you're adapted to tlu^ 

work thet you profess, 
Teachin' gospel tniths er hangin' on the 

plow, 
Then buckle down to business, an' yer 

can't escape success, 
Fer you'll find the nickiomancys in tln' 

art o' kmtwin' liow. 



86 POEMS. 



MOTHER'S PHOTOGRAPH. 



D'you wish to know what came to me 

from good ol' Santa Clans V 
'Tavuz not a lot o' nigger-toes to crack 

between yer jaws, 
Nor candy nor a jumpin'-jack fer makin' 

youngsters laugh — 
But the present thet he give to me avuz 

mother's photograph. 

Some how a cur'ous feelin' seems to 

steal acrost my mind, 
Ez I look back to boyish days an' think 

liow good an' kind 
Thet mother's been in teachin' me to 

shun the evil ways, 
An' how attentive she liez been, e'en 

from my infant days. 



POEMS. 87 

An' when I think how many yonrs sho's 

toiled thro' shine and rain. 
An' how she's alius been on hnud to 

eoothe my every pain. 
It seems ez ef to do my best thet 1 could 

never be 
Half good an' kind enough to pay fer 

all she's done fer me. 

Perhaps you think it's silly, but it's jest 
ez I hev sed, 

Thet all the other presents ol' St. Nich- 
olas ever bed, 

Compared with that he give to me w'nd 
be ]:)ut worthless ehafP, 

Nor comfort me one half cz much ez 
mother's photograph. 



POEMS. 



FIFTY YEARS. 



Two score and ten summers have glided 
away, 
As time speeds relentlessly on ; 
And our thoughts wander back, as we 
sit here to-day, 
O'er the past that has faded and gone. 

Many dear ones have gone to their rest 
in the grave. 
Young hearts have departed from play ; 
Still others have gone, their dear coun- 
try to save, 
Ai.d fall'n 'mid the wild battle's fray. 

Many dear to our hearts are now far in 
the west, 
While few near the old home remain; 



POEMS. 89 

Ami though often lonely, we've been 
greatly blest, — 
Our labors have not been in vain. 

'Tis fifty long years since the day which 

we set, 

Our sorrows and pleasures to share; 

That bright, happy day we ne'er shall 

forget. 

When life looked so joyous and fair! 



/\ MAIDEN WONDROUS FAIR. 



Within a certain town there dwelt 

A maiden wondrous fair, 
Whose cheeks were like the rose's hue 

And golden was her hair. 



90 POEMS. 

Her eyes were like the twinkling stars, 
Her teeth were like the pearl; 

And sons of both the rich and poor, 
Admired this charming girl. 

Two constant beaus this maiden had, 
And each one swore that she, 

Ere many months had passed away, 
His own dear wife would be. 

But soon an incident occurred 
Which all their plans upset, 

When at the maiden's gate one eve 
Her two admirers met. 

Hard words arose between the two, 

As oft there had before; 
And that the maid should be his wife 

Still each persistent swore. 



POEMS. 01 

The longer thus they did contend, 
The more their wrath did rise ; 

Until at last they came to blows 

O'er who should have the prize. 

While thus engaged, a prim young man 

With unpretentious mien 
Approached, just as the maid herself 

Appeared upon the scene. 

Then soon the angry blows were ceased 

And quietude restored; 
And each apologized to her 

Whom he so much adored. 



Then Ixnving low, each went his way, 
Quite black and swollen-eyed; 

While she whom they had fought to win 
Became the third man's bride. 



92 POEMS. 



WEALTH AND WANT. 



How often the poor are despised and 
neglected, 
For no other reason except they are 
poor; 
How often the rich are beloved and re- 
spected, 
Because they have uncounted wealth 
at their door. 

There's many an honest and virtuous 
heart. 
To-day within poverty's prison en- 
chained; 
While thousands reside amid pleasures 
of art. 
Whose wealth was thro' vice and dis- 
honesty gained. 



POEMS. 93 

Despise not the needy because they are 
poor, 
Nor envy the wealthy becau.se of their 
gold; 
Good or ill fortune may stand at our 
door, 
But true hearts are not to be purchas- 
ed or sold. 



CHILDHOOD. 



We long for those days, once so joyous. 
For that unbounded freedom, again, 

When there were no cares to annoy us, 
And life knew no sorrow nor pain; 

But those sweet days of childhood have 
vanished. 
And we long for them only in vain. 



94 POEMS. 

Tho' time has wrought changes unnum- 
bered 
Since those happy seasons were pass'd, 
And now with life's cares we're encum- 
bered, 
Still backward fond visions we'll cast; 
And we'll think of our childhood with 
pleasure 
As long as our memories last. 



THE LASSIE O'ER THE WAY. 



A sweet little lassie 
Lives over the way : 

She's pretty and modest, 
Yet blithesome and gay 

So perfect her manners, 
So graceful her mien; 



POEMS. 96 

() who would not worship 
This fair little queen ! 

Is there a young laddie 

Whose heart would not beat 

For those smiles so angelic 
And dimples so sweet : 

Those blue eyes a-sparkling, 
That bright golden hair! 

O where's the young lassie 
More charming and fair! 

She's modest and gentle, 

Yet cheerful and gay; 
This sweet little lassie, 

Just over the way. 



X W,^^^^, ^^^ 



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